Why is Rebecca Late?
by heartbash
Summary: Rebecca is late for an important client meeting. Nathaniel's not happy about it. The true reason she's late sets them on a journey of reflection on the nature of their relationship and how long they can keep the affair going. Set during the 8-month time jump in 3x11.
1. This was a mistake

Things used to be simple.

It used to be about sex. They were just two people, fulfilling a need. Scratching an itch. It was purely physical. A release.

 _This was a mistake._

One mistake turned into two. Two turned into five. And five turned into a weekdaily ritual. Suddenly a simple "Hi" or a raised eyebrow turned into tearing each other's clothes off moments later. If she squeezed her eyes closed hard enough, she could block out the fact she was in a dirty supply closet with a man who was committed to someone else. If he buried himself deep enough within her, he could pretend she loved him back.

 _This is the last time._

It was never the last time. Not when he looked like sex on a stick and he needed her the way he needed air to breathe.

At the beginning, when things were simple, their dirty talk was like an instruction manual. They only had a limited amount of time, so they got right to the point. She was shameless and he was all too eager to please her.

 _Close the door. I want to rip your pants off._

 _Take your hair down._

 _Right there. Faster._

 _Kiss me._

 _Fuck me harder._

At the beginning, they would separate quickly after finishing. They would put their clothes back on while avoiding each other's eyes. They retreated emotionally, mentally compartmentalizing their encounters so they wouldn't bleed red out into the other parts of their lives.

The supply closet contained its own universe where Dr. Akopian and workbooks and disappointed fathers and Mona didn't exist. In the supply closet, it was only the smell of her hair and her contented sigh in his ear. It was his sturdy arms holding her up and his hot breath against her neck.

They had slip-ups. As time ticked on, they got sloppy. The janitor caught them twice, forcing them to learn the building's cleaning schedule. Sometimes they lingered too long, causing suspicion among their colleagues. A few times he forgot to bring a condom and they had to improvise.

What happened in the supply closet stayed in the supply closet. Until it didn't.

Their secret universe of the supply closet slowly creeped into the rest of the office. One day, when she stood enticingly close to him on his side of the desk, he slyly slid his hand between her legs, trailing his fingertips along her inner thigh until he could feel her heat. After that, all her dress pants got lost in the back of the closet. Sometimes during meetings, she dragged her bare foot alluringly from his calf to his thigh, forcing him to punish her later for being such a tease. Each time one of them had to work late, the other found a reason to stay. Those nights they lavished each other with no worries about time restrictions. Those nights he settled in between her legs and wasn't satisfied until she writhed and begged for release.

But their worst mistakes had nothing to do with the sex.

After a surprise visit from his father, Nathaniel waited for Rebecca to walk by the supply closet and then silently grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. Her forehead wrinkled into a question but he ignored it, lifting her underneath her thighs and depositing her on the nearby table. Before she could remove her shirt or make any other move, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her. Without any urgency, he simply continued to kiss her, with no end destination, stroking her hair methodically, almost lovingly. When she tugged on his belt, he gently removed her hands and placed them on his chest. After several minutes of languidly exploring each other's mouths, he buried his face in her the crook of her neck and she held him until he was ready to face the remainder of the day. They never spoke of it.

On another particularly stressful day, about a month later, he hoisted her roughly up against the supply room wall and fucked her until she saw stars behind her eyes. After he came inside her, he loosened his arms to release her but she tightened her grip around his shoulders and simply said, "Wait." She clung to him with all four of her limbs while their bodies stayed joined. He complied, letting her come down from the high of her orgasm until his arms ached from holding her up. She whispered, "I want…" into his neck but then fell silent. She never finished the sentence and he never asked for more.

 _That was the last time. This time we mean it, right?_

Over time, it got to the point where their needs no longer had to be verbalized. Their body language shorthand was at an expert level of fluency. A grip on her hips or push on his chest or desperate moan was a complete sentence. They greedily took what they needed from each other - no words required. She stopped wearing her hair up. He wore his tie looser.

Six months. It had been six months since they started their affair. Six months of last times and mistakes and never agains. At this point, saying it was just a formality. A routine. It was an obligatory acknowledgement that what they were doing was wrong, yet apparently not wrong enough for either of them to stop it.

This week both Nathaniel and Rebecca were overworked and suffered from a lack of sleep. A big case fell into their laps, courtesy of Nathaniel Plimpton II. Of course, Nathaniel felt he had to prove something and she followed his lead. They stayed late almost every day that week, pouring over the case together, and then unleashing their pent up frustration into each other afterward.

This particular morning, they had a meeting scheduled with the client. Nathaniel had arrived early, prepared to go over the case notes one final time with Rebecca. But, ten minutes prior to the meeting, she was still a no-show. He texted her several times with no response. When they first started working together, this kind of flaky behavior wouldn't have surprised him. But since she became senior partner, she had taken the role much more seriously.

The meeting started without her and he filled in the gaps she left with her absence. About 30 minutes into the meeting, he saw her finally arrive through the glass of the conference room. Her gait was labored, her face drawn into a ball of anxious wrinkles. Looking up, she caught his eye and her face was apologetic, pleading. He nodded sharply, acknowledging her presence.

"Hi gents, so sorry I'm late. Can you believe my luck? I had a flat tire!" she declared with false enthusiasm. She could tell by his stilted expression that Nathaniel was not pleased with her. His overbearing father loomed over this entire week like a silently judging god. And while she didn't care about his final judgment, she knew to Nathaniel it meant everything. Avoiding his gaze, she took her seat beside him and they fell into their usual rhythm for the rest of the meeting.

Afterward, they returned to their shared office. Nathaniel stared daggers at her from across the room and she twitched under his scrutiny.

Finally breaking the silence, she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just say it. Say you're mad I was late."

"I'm mad you were late." His eyes were ice blue and the rest of his face was just as cold.

"I'm sorry."

"Supply closet."

"Nathaniel, I'm not in the mood…"

"Just to talk. Away from prying eyes." He nodded toward the bullpen just outside the glass of their office.

"Fine. Five minutes."

In the supply closet, Rebecca waited for him with her arms crossed around her defensively. He arrived in a huff, closing the door behind him a little too forcefully. "What the hell, Rebecca? You know how important this client is for the firm."

"You mean how important it is to your daddy?" she spat.

"Wow," he raised his eyebrows and took a step away from her. "That was totally unnecessary. And I thought we both agreed this would be a huge get for the firm. What is your problem? Why were you really late?"

She tightened her arms further around herself and looked down at the ground. "I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all. I didn't fall asleep until 3AM and then I overslept."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" His eyes darted all over her face. "Something's wrong."

With fear in her eyes, she lashed out, "Oh, I see. Because you've fucked me you know me so well?"

"Well, Rebecca, I have fucked you every day for the past six months now, so, yes, I do think I know you pretty well."

She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. "Good job, Nathaniel. You cracked the case. But I'm not obligated to tell you anything. You're not my -" She stopped herself and the words hung in the air.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Let's start over. Rebecca, what's wrong?"

She said nothing.

"Rebecca…"

"Listen, Nathaniel, you don't want to know, ok? We don't...talk about things."

"I do want to know." He moved toward her and reached out to touch her arm, which was still crossed over her chest.

She backed away from him. "I'm late, ok?!"

"I know…"

"No, you don't know. I'm late!" Her eyes were wide in frustration.

"What?" He furrowed his brow.

"My period is five days late!" She covered her face with her hands and turned her back to him. Dumbstruck, he stood frozen in place for several moments.

Finally, he came up behind her and rested his hands on either of her shoulders. "Hey, it's ok."

She turned toward him and she had tears in her eyes. "It's not ok. I'm in recovery. You have a girlfriend. Nothing about this is ok. I can't -" Rebecca started breathing a little too quickly and he noticed sweat forming on her forehead. Sensing her acute panic, he resolved to try to be calm.

"Have you taken a test?"

"I bought one. It's in my car. But I'm too afraid to take it."

He reached out and took one of her hands in his. This snapped her out of her daze and she finally looked him in the eyes. They were soft with genuine concern. "Why don't you come over to my place after work and you can take it. And we can...talk about it...or whatever we need to do."

She exhaled sharply and nodded. "Ok."

She moved her arms toward his neck hesitantly and he stooped down so he could gather her into his arms. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere, ok? We'll figure it out."

Things were no longer simple.


	2. This is the last time

She didn't belong here. That's the thought that replayed over and over in Rebecca's mind as she stood in the entryway of Nathaniel's condo. Her eyes swept across the expanse and somehow it felt both familiar and foreign at the same time. Every corner of his place ignited a memory of their past and each one felt like another punch to the gut.

In the entryway, she had burst her therapy bubble by surprising him, jumping into his arms like a flying squirrel. That night he was soft and welcoming and both of them were full of hopeful, joyous energy. They stayed up all night, alternating between making love and talking. And while they had had sex before, everything felt like the first time. The next day, Nathaniel was late to work for the first time in his career.

If she closed her eyes, she could envision the two of them in the kitchen. He would come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, his hands warm around her middle. She would squirm and he would nose her hair. She would tease him for his eating habits and his chest would rumble against her with laughter. She would turn in his arms and try to stuff a piece of bread into his mouth and he would avoid it, chasing after her lips instead.

On the couch, they had playfully teased each other over what show to watch or where to order food from that night. She would hit him with a pillow and in response he would grab her wrists and raise his eyebrows in a challenge. Before long, she would be in his lap and he would bless her with a thousand-watt smile he dare not show to anyone else. Once, on that couch, he snuggled up to her and called her _sweetheart_ and she didn't stop smiling for a full 24 hours.

And in his bed. Oh, in bed. Those were thoughts she didn't want to indulge in right now. Not when she was staring down the barrel of a pregnancy test. She didn't want to think about how his breath caught in his throat when he entered her or how he tugged her close to him in the middle of the night or how secure she felt surrounded by his scent laced in the sheets. Those days, it was ok to show each other how much they cared. It was ok to freely give themselves to each other. But she had put a stop to that right here in the entryway. Here in the entryway, she broke his heart (along with her own). Thanks to her, she was now a stranger in his home.

She was in a hell of her own making.

Her dazed expression as she surveyed the condo was not lost on Nathaniel. Her eyes were unfocused and glassy, and he watched as the emotions crashed over her like waves. As much as he wanted to wallow in those same memories, he knew he couldn't let himself go there. He was with someone else now and, if he dwelled too long on those memories, he worried it would shatter him into a thousand tiny pieces.

Clutching the bag with the pregnancy test, she finally said, "Ok, let's do this." She dropped her purse unceremoniously onto the floor near the couch and then walked purposefully toward the bathroom.

"Wait -" he stopped her. "Maybe we should talk first...about what we would do if…" he had trouble saying the words out loud.

"Ok," she agreed but refused meet his eyes. "Like I said before, you have a girlfriend and I'm in recovery. Even if I was pregnant...we just can't." Her voice was quiet, resigned.

"If that's what you want."

She then met his eyes, incredulous and frustrated. "I'm sorry, you think it would be a _good_ idea for us to have _a baby_? What about my health? What about your girlfriend?" The last two words tasted bitter in her mouth.

"I would end it."

"Just like that? Please, stop trying to be a hero," she scoffed.

"I'm just saying that I would end it for you," he said again without a hint of hesitation. His eyes locked on hers, intense. In his mind, he screamed out for her to realize he meant those words regardless of whether she was pregnant or not.

She sighed and started opening the box. "I need to take this now before I lose my nerve, ok?" her voice broke and she left him standing in the bedroom alone. Those few minutes stretched into an eternity and his stomach churned, imagining every possible outcome of the night. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket but he ignored it. The last thing he needed to see was Mona's name scorched across his phone's screen.

Rebecca emerged from the bathroom and set the test down on his dresser. "Three minutes," she said and then sat down beside him on the bed, their arms barely grazing each other. She set a timer on her phone and then tossed it on the bed next to her.

After a minute of awkward silence, Nathaniel said softly, "Listen, I'm sorry...if I was careless. You shouldn't have to go through this."

"It takes two to tango," she replied, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a half-smile. He tentatively took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She squeezed his hand in return and closed her eyes, waiting for the three minutes to be over.

After a few more minutes of companionable silence, her phone sprung to life, beeping incessantly, indicating the test was ready. She quickly untangled their hands and grabbed the phone, silencing the alarm. When she looked at him, her eyes were full of doubt and fear. "Will you look for me? A plus means positive."

He walked over to the dresser and picked up the test. Not wishing to prolong their angst, he immediately said, "It's negative."

"What?!" she flung herself from the bed and grabbed the test out of his hands. He was right. Tears pricked her eyes and she threw her arms around Nathaniel's neck. "Thank god," she whispered. His arms instinctually went around her waist and he breathed a sigh of relief. He

ran his hands over her back methodically and felt her slowly relax against him, the tension leaving her body.

In a small, meek voice, she asked, "We have to stop, right?"

Grateful she wasn't able to see his face, he exhaled into her neck, "I don't want to stop." His arms tightened around her and he secretly feared it may be the last time she let him.

A perfect storm of sensory memories swirled around them, triggered by being back at his place together and heightened by the experience they just shared. She pulled away and looked into his eyes with a naked vulnerability that made his stomach clench. He leaned in hesitantly, his eyes darting between her lips and her eyes, searching for permission. Her eyes then dropped to his mouth and she closed the rest of the gap between them, sealing their lips together. His hands came up to cup her cheeks and she whimpered, her hands briefly covering his but then settling on his waist.

They kissed slowly but deeply, full of need for each other. But this need wasn't the kind they were accustomed to, the kind of sexual need they fulfilled by attacking each other in the supply closet. This was an emotional need to be as close to each other as possible. The kiss was filled with a deep longing for the relationship they could have had. After a few minutes she pulled away and regarded him with uncertainty.

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and whispered, "Tell me to stop. Please tell me to stop because I can't stop myself." She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Her brow furrowed while she mentally battled with her conscience.

She knew she wanted him. All of him. She wanted to transport herself back to those scarce few weeks they had together as a couple. She wanted his unguarded smile and his unwavering affection and the way he would look at her like she was the only woman in his world (and maybe in those moments she was).

When she re-opened her eyes, they were resolute. As much as the logical side of her brain knew it was the worst possible idea, in the moment she felt utterly helpless in her desire to be totally devoured by him. All she wanted was to pick up where they left off over six months ago.

No one would understand.

She pushed him back on the bed and climbed on top of him, forcefully pressing their mouths together in an electric kiss. His hands skimmed her waist and then gripped her hips to pull her closer, while she ran her hands up and down his chest, bunching up his t-shirt in her fists. The kiss quickly escalated and soon they were grinding against each other, moaning into each other's mouths, the situation quickly spiraling out-of-control.

Gasping for air, she suddenly pulled away and rested her forehead against his, their breath intermingling. "What do you want?" he panted and his hips bucked up against her of their own volition.

Her eyes drifted shut, unable to look at him when she verbalized what she needed from him. "Tell me," she whispered.

"Tell you what?"

She swallowed, "Tell me...how much you want me." She felt needy and clingy and desperate, and she hated herself for it.

He sighed and his fingers flexed around her hips. More than anything else, he wanted to give her everything, confess everything. But there was still an ever-present fear of exposing his true feelings to her. She told him time and time again that she wasn't ready for a relationship. Yet, here she was, on top of him, holding his face in her hands for dear life, the emotion pouring out of her like rain.

"Rebecca, I want you so badly. Every single day I want to kiss you and touch you and be near you and...sometimes I want you so much it's hard to breathe."

A noise escaped from her throat that was a cross between a whimper and and a sob. "Nathaniel," she breathed and her inflection told him everything he needed to know. He took control, rolling her over so she was on her back. He kissed her fiercely, insistently, so passionately that her head pressed down into the mattress and it dipped under her. As eager as he was, she easily matched his energy, wrapping her legs around his hips and moaning as his body completely fused with hers.

It wasn't enough and it was all too much at the same time. Overwhelming guilt, shame, and fear settled in her chest like a ton of bricks. Panicking, she pushed on his chest and made a choking noise in her throat. Sensing this shift, he immediately stopped kissing her and raised himself up on his elbows so he could see her face.

"I can't. We can't do this tonight," she pleaded. "Five minutes ago I was terrified that I was pregnant. We can't be having sex and we definitely can't be…" She wanted to say _making love_ but couldn't bear to say the words out loud.

"Ok, I understand," he sighed and rolled off of her so he was lying on his back, mirroring her. For a few moments they simply laid next to each other in silence.

When his heart rate finally slowed and his breathing was back under control, Nathaniel raised his arm up to look at it watch. "It's late," he observed. "You're welcome to stay here if you want."

She continued to stare at the ceiling, contemplating this. She was emotionally exhausted, completely drained of all remaining will power. "Ok," she acquiesced.

Both of them got up and there was an awkward moment where she gestured that she would sleep on "her" side - the right side - and he simply nodded and tried not to smile at the memory it triggered. He turned off the bedside lamp and then joined her under the blankets, careful not to touch her. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to relax.

Just when he thought she had fallen asleep, she broke the silence. "Why are you doing this?"

How could he possibly answer that question? Any truthful answer would completely smash apart their delicately-balanced house of cards. Why push the issue? What did she want? Just tonight she went from begging for validation and jumping his bones, to completely pulling away and retreating. She was whiplash personified and he couldn't begin to understand what she truly wanted. Did she even know?

When she broke up with him, she said it was because she couldn't be in a relationship. Yet, once he started dating Mona, she was willing to have sex with him. Suddenly, through some mental gymnastics he didn't understand, the arrangement worked for her. As terrible as he knew it was, he would do anything not to upset that balance, even if it meant hiding his feelings and stringing Mona along. The only thing worse than losing Rebecca romantically would be to lose her completely. At least now she let him get close to her. And sometimes, Rebecca let her guard down and he saw a flicker of true affection in her eyes. He prayed for that flicker to ignite into a flame of true desire for him. But, for now, he was only getting burned.

"It's complicated," he said into the darkness. If she wanted to hear his true feelings, she would have to be the one to bridge that gap. The fear of losing the little he had of her was too overwhelming to take that risk.

Accepting this answer, she snuggled up closer to him. When he felt her brush against his arm, he wrapped it around her shoulders. She nuzzled into him and openly smelled his shirt, not hiding her persevering neediness for him. In response, he kissed the top of her head and then rested his cheek there. When he closed his eyes, he imagined she was his girlfriend again and it was just another night of falling asleep in each other's arms. The familiar smell of her hair comforted him as he drifted off to sleep - dreaming, pretending.

The next morning, his alarm dutifully went off at 6:30AM. But instead of Rebecca's warm body nestled against him, there were only blankets bunched up in his arms. In his half-sleep state, he wondered for a moment if the night before was all a dream.

When he arrived at work, surprisingly Rebecca was already at her desk, typing away on her laptop.

"Hi," he ventured tentatively.

"Hi," she replied and she offered him a timid smile.

After he sat down at his desk she pointedly said, "I'm not late anymore."

"I see that," he said, with a clipped chuckle. He busied himself with his normal morning routine of unpacking his laptop and arranging his notepad.

"No, actually I mean, um…I got my…"

"Oh," he said, finally catching her meaning. His eyes involuntarily drifted down to her abdomen and then back up to her eyes.

"That's why I left," she offered.

He nodded. "Ok."

She went back to her work and he, as always, followed her lead.

 **One week later…**

After a week of celibacy, Rebecca and Nathaniel were both vibrating with tension around each other. The week had been filled with tentative touches and longing glances when the other wasn't looking. Like magnets, they were constantly drawn together over and over. But, unsure where they stood, neither of them seemed willing to make the first move.

Using the flimsy excuse of showing Nathaniel some case notes for a future meeting, she came around to his side of the desk, bending over at an angle that gave him ample opportunity to stare down her low cut, v-neck shirt.

"...so what do you think?" she asked, after she walked him through her notes.

When he tore his eyes away from her breasts, she was staring intently at him, her mouth curled up in a playful smirk. Her smile infectious, he grinned back devilishly and grazed his hand up the back of her thigh, under her dress. Her breath hitched slightly and her eyes dropped to his mouth.

"Nathaniel," she said, drawing out his name like honey, just the way he liked, "do you need a highlighter to continue going over these notes?"

He pretended to search around his desk. "You know, I think I do. Could you show me where they are?"

"Sure, I'll meet you there in five," she said, purposefully swinging her hips as she walked out of the office moments later.

When he opened the door five minutes later, she was on him before the door was fully closed. She moaned unabashedly into his mouth, clawing at his suit jacket.

"Mmm missed you." The words flew out of her mouth of their own accord.

"Me too," he whispered, low and hopeless.

And like a choreographed dance, they picked up right where they left off. His hands in her hair, his lips at her neck, his groan in her ear. Her arms around his neck, her sigh against his lips, her wet grip around his fingers.

Yet, after the pregnancy scare, the dynamic between them shifted.

While they still used the word _mistake_ , neither of them meant it anymore. They both knew that every kiss, every touch was a conscious, deliberate choice. But like a freight train with no brakes, they kept barreling on, each choice just adding to the inertia propelling them forward.

Their instruction manual started to accumulate new verbiage.

 _Close the door. I need you right now._

 _I missed you._

 _Deeper, please._

 _You're so beautiful._

 _Stay a little longer._

Though they grew bolder with each other, each time they got close to finally bridging that emotional distance between them, Rebecca backed away. When things got too serious, she made a joke. When he went out on a limb, she pulled him back.

But they couldn't go on like this forever. Someday it would truly have to be the last time.


End file.
